


The Man in the Chimney

by 18lzytwner



Series: Bones - First Series [7]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-02
Updated: 2007-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/18lzytwner/pseuds/18lzytwner
Summary: Booth and Brennan find a body wedged in a chimney. It seems like a separate case but Booth thinks its linked to two more deaths. Will they catch the murderer or will the murderer catch them? 7th BB, Hodgela.





	1. Chapter 1

**67 Lee Street, Washington D.C.  Monday at 10:00 am** _  
_

          Brennan and her team arrived on the scene to find the smell of burning flesh in the air.  The forensic anthropologist was nervous because Cullen, instead of Booth, had called her.  Although Lee Street wasn’t near the FBI Agent’s apartment, something about the situation made her uneasy.

          “Why did we have to come back to this?”  Angela Montenegro asked as she held her nose and grabbed a kit from the back of the van.

          “I wasn’t the one who took off for Fiji.”  Brennan’s tone was a little harsh.

          “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?  Do you know how much I’ve been trying to apologize to Jack for this mess?”  The forensic artist wasn’t happy at all the sights and smells weren’t helping.  Hodgins and Dr. Addy arrived in another van and pulled their equipment out as well.

          “Can we focus?”  Her friend asked.

          “Sorry.”  Angela apologized.  The two walked over to the crime scene tape where Brennan’s mood improved greatly upon seeing FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth standing there, wearing a small facemask over his nose and mouth.

          “So what do we have?”  She asked trying to keep her concern from showing. 

          “Morning to you too Bones.”  He smirked as he handed masks out to her and the rest of her crew.  When he saw the forensic anthropologist give him a slight smile he continued.

          “We have a body well… maybe you’d better see this for yourself.  It’s kind of hard to explain.”  Booth lifted the crime scene tape and the Squint Squad ducked underneath it.  Then he headed for the door of a house that looked as though it had seen better days.  It obviously needed a fresh coat of paint, the broken shutters and windows replaced, and a step was missing as they climbed onto the porch.

          “Why is this house like this?”  Brennan asked.

          “It was due for demolition but when they crew got here and smelled that nasty flesh burning smell and they decided to call the cops, who in turn called us.”  Her partner explained.

          “Why did they call you?”  Angela asked as she carefully set the case she was carrying down on the floor.

          “Why don’t you take a look for yourself.”  The G-man said.  Cautiously both Brennan and Angela neared the fireplace at the end of the room.  The horrible smell of burning flesh increased as they moved closer, so much so that Angela was trying to hold it back as much as she could from throwing up but she could feel her breakfast rising in her throat and turned back.  Brennan didn’t seem that fazed by it and continued on toward the flue.  There was a pile of something she thought looked like bone and muscle tissue.  Then as she peered up into the stack she found the top part of a torso inside.

“He crupt to the chimney and stuffed the tree up.”  Brennan said in a small voice.

“What was that Bones?”  Booth asked.

“Nothing.  We need to get this out of here.”  The forensic anthropologist told him.

“What do you suggest?”  Her partner wondered.  To answer that, she turned to Hodgins and Zach.

“Did either one of you bring the Saws-all?” 

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Monday at 12:00 pm**

          Brennan stood over the remains that had been removed from the fireplace.  Hodgins and Zach were still trying to remove the torso from the chimney bricks, which was going to take a few more hours. 

          “So what do you think?”  Booth asked as he scanned himself onto the platform.

          “Judging by the parts I have to work with at the moment, I’d say it was a fully developed male in his late thirties early forties.  Unfortunately I’m only working with part of a femur, this rest of it is still up in the chimney.”  She said.

          “Ok that’s disgusting.  How is Angela holding up?”  Her partner asked.

          “Well she’s staying in her office until we get a skull to work with.  The smell is really getting to her.”  Brennan gave a shrug and continued to examine the bones and what was left of the muscle tissue.

          “Aren’t you going to clean them up?”  Cam asked as she scanned into the platform.

          “I will when I have enough of him assembled.  Hodgins and Zach are trying to extract the rest of the victim.”  Brennan’s tone was one of slight annoyance.

          “Extract?  Booth, where’d you find this guy?”  The Head of Forensics asked.

          “Inside a chimney, believe it or not and no one is quite sure how he got there.”  He replied.

          “Angela is working on scenarios based off of my estimated height.”  Brennan told them.

          “What height range are you thinking?”  Cam wondered.

          “Between five foot nine and six foot three.  I’m hoping when we clean the bones, any breaks we find will help us narrow it down.”  The forensic anthropologist said.

          “Keep up the good work.”  Dr. Saroyan turned and left.

          “Can you leave the bones for a second?”  Booth asked.

          “I have to keep putting them together.”  Brennan objected.

          “What I have to say deals with this case but I don’t want everyone else to know.”  The FBI agent said.  His partner gave him a look and then pulled her gloves off.

          “Lets go to my office.”  She said.  Quickly the two partners headed to the forensic anthropologist’s office and shut the door.

          “What is it?”  Brennan wanted to know.

          “In the past two weeks two FBI agents have died.”  Booth said.

          “In the line of duty?”  She wondered.

          “No.  Agent Forest in a car crash and Agent Leonard fell off a ladder and broke his neck.”  He told her.

          “Both agents were killed in freak accidents so what?”  Brennan asked, not seeing the connection.

          “That’s just it, I don’t think they were accidents.  Three weeks ago there was a big sting in involving the Mob.  We shut down their money laundering operation and the restaurant they were laundering the money out of.  Their trial starts next week and conveniently the agents involved are turning up dead.”  Booth explained.

          “So you think that this man that was in the chimney could be another Agent.”  She said.

          “Agent John Fitzpatrick to be specific.  He never showed up for work today.”  He told her.

          “Is that why Cullen called me this morning?”  Brennan asked.

          “Yes, he had me checking out Fitzpatrick’s apartment this morning.” The FBI Agent said.

          “So what the next course of action?”  She wondered.

          “Hope that the man you have on your table isn’t Fitzpatrick otherwise the case against the Mob will fall through.”  Booth shook his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Tuesday at 9:00 am**

          Brennan looked over the paperwork that sat on her desk.  Booth had sent over the file on Agent Fitzpatrick and now she hoped that the mostly cleaned bones didn’t match the statistics she was reading.

          “I’ve been going over the scenarios and this seems so strange.  I can’t figure out how the body ended up in the chimney,” Angela interrupted her thoughts as she entered the forensic anthropologist’s office. 

          “What about the breaks we found in the victim’s ankles?”  Brennan asked.

          “Those work if someone tried to shove him up there but it doesn’t explain the work up I did.  According to the Angelator, there should have been breaks in his shoulders and arms as well but there aren’t,” the forensic artist shook her head and plopped down on the couch.

          “We have to be missing something.  What if our victim was put up into the chimney just after he was murdered?  Rigor mortis wouldn’t have set in yet and his body would have been more pliable,” Brennan wondered.

          “Wouldn’t there have been more blood at the scene?”  Angela asked.

          “Is Zach done cleaning the bones?”  The forensic anthropologist completely ignored her friend’s question.

          “I’m not sure,” Angela replied.  Without saying anything Brennan left her office.  Confused, the forensic artist followed after her. 

          Brennan scanned herself into the platform and saw the younger forensic anthropologist arranging the bones that had been cleaned in their proper places.

          “Zach, did you find anything that would indicate our victim had any wounds of any kind?”  His superior asked.

          “I haven’t found anything.  There doesn’t appear to be any gouges from a knife or bullets.  Hodgins is working with the upper part of the torso.  He’s hoping to find something with the dermestes maculates,” the young doctor explained.

          “Not those nasty beetles again?”  Angela asked.

          “The hide beetles aren’t nasty, they are an important animals that aid in decomposition.  They will tell us if our victim was poisoned,” Zach defended the little creatures.  Angela rolled her eyes and left them to run the possible scenario of the victim being freshly dead.

          “How long until we have the results?”  Brennan wondered.

          “Since it isn’t a complete body, hopefully by tomorrow afternoon,” the young man told her.  His boss sighed and said,

          “Let me know the moment you get anything.”

          “Yes Dr. Brennan,” Zach acknowledged.  With that the forensic anthropologist headed back for her office.

          “I wondered what you were up to,” Booth said as she entered the doorway causing her to jump.

          “Booth, how did you get in here?”  She asked.

          “The same way I always do,” he gave her a confused look before continuing.

          “Any luck identifying our victim?” 

          “Not yet, all we have established is that our victim is in fact a male, that he is approximately six foot one, and that both his ankles were broken,” his partner told him.  Booth groaned at the fact that this was taking so long.

          “Why haven’t been able to get more?” the FBI agent asked.

          “We have not found any reason why our victim would be dead.  There are no gouges in the cleaned bones to indicate a weapon and there aren’t any apparent breaks in the upper torso but the dermestes maculates haven’t finished their job yet,” Brennan explained.

          “Yes well, Agent Fitzpatrick was a male and six foot one.  Also no one has seen or heard from him in the past forty-eight hours,” Booth told her.

          “I can’t jump to conclusions without proof.  If it is Agent Fitzpatrick on my examining table then you’ll have to find another way of convicting those Mob guys the FBI arrested,” she said.

          “Easier said than done.  We have a team trying to pull together enough of the three agents reports to make our case but it would be a lot easier if one of them were alive,” her partner sighed.

          “Bring their files to me and I’ll see what I can get out of their autopsy reports,” Brennan told him.

          “”I’m way ahead of you.  The files are out in the car,” Booth smiled.  “I figured we could go over them together.”  Brennan gave him a smirk and the two headed out to the SUV.

          “So if this isn’t Agent Fitzpatrick, then what?”  The forensic anthropologist wondered.

          “Well I have Sam looking into the house and the demolition has been postponed pending the completion of the investigation,” Booth told her as the crossed the parking lot and headed into the garage.  Brennan nodded and her partner hit the unlock button on his key ring.  Grabbing the handle on the back gate, Booth pulled it up and the door sprung open.  There inside were two boxes containing files for FBI Special Agents Mike Forest and Jerry Leonard. 

          “These don’t feel so heavy,” Brennan commented.

          “Well seeing as they were ruled accidents there might not be much to go off of but luckily, whenever or however an Agent dies, there is always an autopsy when dealing with the Mob,” Booth explained.

          “Good for us but not so good for the agents,” she said.  Booth nodded and closed the tailgate back up.  They were about to head back to the forensic anthropologist’s office when they both heard a clanking noise.  In a flash, Booth dropped the box he was holding and pulled his Glock twenty-two from his shoulder holster.  Brennan stopped in her tracks and watched her partner look around them.  There was an uneasy feeling in the parking garage but with no one in sight the FBI agent holstered the weapon and grabbed the box.  The sooner they got out of the garage the better.   Brennan followed her partner’s lead and rushed out of the parking structure.  The two went into the Jeffersonian and the forensic anthropologist went to her office while Booth went to security.

          “You guys were watching the parking garage right?”  He asked.

          “Yes sir,” the security guard replied.

          “Did you see anyone else besides myself and Dr. Brennan?”  Booth wanted to know.  The security guard shook his head ‘no’ but pulled the tape out to rewind it and see.  As they went through the tape, Booth caught a shadow along the wall.  It was there for a second and then gone. 

          “What was that?”  The guard wondered.  He had seen it too.

          “Someone is watching us,” Booth pointed out, “and I intend to find out who.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Brennan’s Apartment, Tuesday at 10:00 pm**

          “Are you sure this is necessary Booth?”  His partner asked as she stood up for the file boxes stacked on the coffee table.

          “Yes Bones, it is.  If someone is following you then I want to be sure you’re safe,” he told Brennan.

          “I could have stayed with Angela,” she told him.

          “No, she and Hodgins are in the middle of moving in together.  Besides I don’t want to drag more people into this if possible,” Booth said.  Brennan nodded and headed off for the kitchen.

          “Do you want anything?”  She called.

          “A beer would be great but I’d better stick to water,” he told her.  Within a few moments, the forensic anthropologist brought out two glasses of water and the two continued to pour over everything. 

          “Booth, I hate to tell you this but this Agent Forest’s car accident looks to be just that, a car accident.  His car went into a pole on the side of the road and the force of the impact killed him,” Brennan said as she looked at the autopsy report.

          “Agent Forest wouldn’t just drive his car into a pole.  The road was dry and it was broad daylight,” Booth argued.

          “Well what did the lab say about his car?”  She wondered.

          “The car was so badly damaged that it’s going to take months to put all the pieces back together.  There won’t be anyway to find out if it was tampered with until then,” he sighed, the frustration evident in his voice.  Brennan reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.  She wished she could do more but if she was being watched then their emotions had to be in check.

          “As for Agent Leonard, something does seem amiss in the autopsy report.  There should have been more bone damage from a fall off a ladder.  What was he doing on the ladder anyway?”  The forensic anthropologist asked.

          “His wife said that he was trying to fix an upstairs window on their home.  He asked her to run to the hardware store for some sealant and when she got back she found him lying on the ground with a broken neck,” Booth sighed.

          “If he fell on accident he would have tried to brace his body like this,” she grabbed his arms and pulled them out in front of him, “when he hit the ground, his arms would have broken and he would have injured his elbows and shoulders as well.  There are simply no signs of that in the autopsy report.  In fact even the coroner made the remark that he found it strange,” Brennan said.

          “Well at least we can work with that.  I think we’d better get some shuteye.  Tomorrow is another day at the office,” her partner told her as he rubbed his eyes and placed the file in his hand back into the box.  The two packed all the paperwork back up and placed it into its boxes.  Then they put the boxes near the door and got ready for bed.  They had discussed earlier how Booth would take the couch despite the fact that Brennan said she’d feel better if he was in the bed with her.  The FBI agent had made the point that they had to keep up appearances.  Although he promised that once the case was over he’d make up for it somehow.  Brennan grabbed some blankets from her closet and some pillows off her bed and helped Booth make his bed.

          “I hope that will be comfortable enough,” she told him.

          “It’ll be just fine, now get some sleep,” Booth said.  The two separated and Brennan padded her way down the hall.  Booth watched her hips swaying gently and he wanted nothing more to do than take her in his arms and show her how much he loved her but he knew that it wasn’t safe.  The last thing he wanted was to ruin everything because of a moment of an uncontrollable urge.

**Brennan’s Apartment, Wednesday at 3:00 am**  

          Booth was awoken by a sound he recognized as some trying to break in.  The lock was being tampered with and he quickly grabbed his Glock 22 from under the pillow.  Then he got off the couch and stealthily moved toward the door.  This punk had no idea what he was getting himself into.  Finally the door opened and in walked a man whose features were hidden in the darkness.  Booth rounded the corner and he started to say,

          “Freeze…” he never got to finish the thought as the man grabbed at him in the darkness.  The two began fighting to get the upper hand.  The FBI agent’s weapon was thrown to the floor when the intruder hit Booth in the stomach.  Then the man hit the agent in the back with his hands laced together.  It hurt like hell but Booth got up and tackled the man.  He wasn’t about to let this creep near Bones.  The two ended up rolling on the floor, hitting and kicking at each other.  Books fell off of the shelves as their bodies slammed into them.  Finally, Booth managed to get the upper hand and punched the man in the face.  He was about to do it again when someone flicked on the light switch and flooded the room with light.  Both men froze in the middle of the fight after being temporarily blinded. 

          “Freeze!”  Brennan shouted.  Both stopped what they were doing.

“Get on your feet!”  She ordered.  The men stood up tall, one was obviously Booth and the other had his face covered with a ski mask.  When the masked man saw the forensic anthropologist’s weapon pointed at him and stuck his hands in the air.

          “Don’t shoot!”  The intruder pulled the mask off.  Brennan refused to lower her weapon and stared at the man.  Booth turned and looked at the person; what he was seeing just couldn’t be.

          “What’s going on?”  Brennan asked as she continued to keep her gun leveled at the man who’d been assaulting her partner.

          “Bones, I’d like to introduce you to FBI Special Agent Fitzpatrick,” Booth said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Brennan’s Apartment, Wednesday at 3:30 am**

          Brennan lowered her weapon and Booth retrieved his off the floor.  Agent Fitzpatrick started to pick up the forensic anthropologist’s books that had been thrown onto the floor. 

          “I can pick those up later.  First, I’d like an explanation,” Brennan said.

          “She doesn’t beat around the bush does she?”  Fitzpatrick asked.

          “No, she doesn’t but I have to admit I’d like to know what you are doing here myself,” Booth told him.

          “It’s a long story,” The second FBI Agent said.

          “We’re all noses,” Brennan told him.  Fitzpatrick looked confused and Booth cut in to explain.

          “ _Ears_ , Bones, all ears.  Anyway start from the beginning,” The second FBI Agent took a seat on the couch and the partners sat down on the chairs opposite the couch. 

          “I got a phone call late Sunday night from an informant saying that he needed to meet me at an address on Lee Street.  I agreed I’d be there but when I arrived at the place it was dark and I saw the demolitions signs.  I was about to leave when someone broke the window on my car and stuck a gun in my face.  He told me to cut the engine and get out of the car.  He then forced me into the house,” Fitzpatrick paused and swallowed before continuing.

          “Once inside he asked me a series of questions, while holding his gun to my forehead.  He also had me hand over my weapon.  Cracked a joke about how my gun would be put to better use later.  About ten minutes later after explaining to me what he intended to do, he said, ‘Say hello to Forest and Leonard for me’.  I knew he was about to pull the trigger so I did the last thing I could think of.  I kicked him in the…” he paused trying to think of the nicest phrase possible.  

          “In the testicles?”  Brennan finished.

          “Yes ma’am.  He doubled over and we fought.  His gun went sliding onto the floor and I took the opportunity to gain the upper hand.  I guess my Marine training took over and the next thing I remember is the guy lying on the floor with his neck snapped,” Fitzpatrick explained. 

          “So how did he end up in the chimney on fire?”  Booth asked.

          “He had told me that once I was dead he was going to shove me in there.  He said that way then they demolished the house, I’d be ripped to pieces and buried beneath the rubble.  I figured I should do the same except if I started a fire then someone would notice.”  The second FBI Agent explained.

“Why didn’t you call for backup?”  Brennan wondered.

“Better for everyone to think I was dead than have the Mob realize I was still alive,” Fitzpatrick told them.

“Why wouldn’t you just explain to your supervisor?  He could make sure you were protected,” Booth wanted to know. 

“Mike and Jerry asked for protection and looked what happened to them.  I wasn’t about to take that chance,” John said.

“You think there’s a leak in the FBI?”  Booth asked.

“How else would the crooks know where they lived or my cell phone number?  What else could explain Mike getting into an accident in broad daylight in dry conditions?  How does Jerry fall and break his neck but not any other part of his body?  Someone has to be telling the Mob these things,” Fitzpatrick insisted.

“So you were the one in the parking garage?”  Brennan spoke up for the first time in twenty minutes.

“Yes, I was hoping I could wait for you and talk to you.  I had hung out near the crime scene and watched the Jeffersonian vans pull up.  I figured once I talked to you, I could convince you to fake the report but when I saw Agent Booth I wasn’t sure if it was safe.  From there I followed you here,” John said.

“So you had to know I was here,” Booth told him.

“Yes but since I saw your reaction in the parking garage and you following your partner to her apartment, I figured you were trying to protect her.  It shows you care and I thought I’d give it a shot anyway,” Fitzpatrick explained.

“So why did you wear the ski mask?”  Brennan wondered.

“To protect my identity.  I didn’t want my face on cameras or anyone to recognize me.  It wouldn’t be safe and I bet as soon as the Mob figures out that I’m not dead then everyone involved in this case will be a target,” the second FBI Agent said.  There was truth in that; Booth knew it.  The Mob would dig in and try to get rid of whoever stood in their way.  Bones would become a target and the G-man didn’t like the sound of that.

“Well then we need to come up with a plan to keep you out of sight,” Booth told him.

“I agree but how?”  John wondered. 

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab Wednesday at 9:00 am**

          Brennan walked into the Lab, and entered the platform after swiping her key identity.  Zach stood there assembling the cleaned bones.

          “Good morning Dr. Brennan,” he said.

          “Good morning Zach.  What do you have got so far?”  She asked.

          “I was just about to get the skull to Angela.  I also discovered that the victim’s C1 and C2 vertebrae were fractured indicating a broken neck.  The dermestes maculates haven’t shown any signs of sickness or death so it’s a positive indicator that the broken vertebrae are the cause of our victim’s demise,” the younger forensic anthropologist explained.

          “Excellent work, Zach.  Thank you,” With that Brennan headed to Angela’s office.  Upon reaching the office, she closed the door.

          “Zach tells me you have the skull.  How far have you gotten with a drawing?”  She asked.

          “I was just trying to decide on his eyes.  What’s the rush?”  Angela wondered.

          “No rush, I need you to do something for me,” Brennan told her.

          “Sure, what is it?”  The forensic artist inquired.  After a few minutes of discussion, everything was settled and Brennan headed for her office.

          Meanwhile, out in the security post, an experienced guard Bob Burris was training a newbie.  He always hated doing it but since he was the senior member of the squad he didn’t have much of a choice.  Luckily, the new guy seemed to be on the ball.

          “Have you got everything so far?”  Bob asked.

          “Compared to my days in the service, I think I can handle it,” the new guy said.  At six foot one, he towered over the shorter Bob by about five inches.

          “Well that’s great.  Your next shift, you’ll be working at the video monitors which isn’t as easy as some people think,” Bob explained.

          “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it,” the taller man smiled as he adjusted his belt and nightstick as the walked along.

          “Great, Joe.  Well why don’t we grab our coffee break?”  Bob wondered.

          “Sounds great,” Joe said as he watched the older man radio back to the guard station.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Labs Wednesday at 11:00 am**

          Booth walked into Brennan’s office and plopped down on her couch.  The forensic anthropologist looked up from her work and could see the concerned look on his face.

          “What is it, Booth?”  She asked.

          “This whole situation is making me nervous.  I don’t like his story and I don’t like how we’re covering everything up,” the FBI agent said.

          “Do we have an option?  If John is right then how can we not try to protect him?”  Brennan wondered.

          “I suppose not but how do we know that he isn’t the leak?”  Booth asked as he lifted off the couch and came over to her desk.

          “We don’t but if we take it to the FBI and there is a leak, he could end up dead.  Then that case is going to fall apart,” his partner reminded him.  “Anyway, I have Angela helping me, we will get to the bottom of this,” she continued. 

          “How exactly is Angela helping you?”  Booth asked, slightly wary of the answer.

          “She is drawing both our victim and John.  We’ll use John’s picture as cover while still working on the body.  I have Angela trying to find a real ID on our victim and from there you can dig up his file, if he has one,” Brennan explained.

          “And when we have that information?”  Her partner wondered.

          “We’ll be able to make an educated decision and go from there.  In the meantime, I don’t like this at all.  We’re supposed to be finding the truth, not covering it up,” the forensic anthropologist said.

          “I know Bones, I know.  I’m going to talk with Cullen today about this,” Booth told her.

          “But…” she started.

          “But nothing Bones.  Cullen is not the leak; he’s not even in that division.  He will know what to do and how we can protect John.  He can’t stay at our places and he can’t stay here all night,” he explained.  Brennan saw what he meant and was about to say something when her office phone rang.

          “Brennan,” she said as she picked it up.  A minute passed before the forensic anthropologist said,

          “We’ll be right there,” she hung up and turned to Booth.

          “That was Angela.  She has something for us,” both partners then left her office and headed over to the forensic artist’s. 

          “What is it Angela?”  Booth asked.

          “Well I’ll have your sketch later this afternoon but the computer finished running the scenarios for how our victim got in the chimney,” she told them and the three moved over to the Angelator.

          “Shouldn’t everyone be here for this?”  Brennan wondered.

          “Well I was thinking that but since our discussion this morning I thought it best to tell you first.  According to the simulation, there are two ways that none of the victim’s other bones would be broken.  First, is if someone shoved him up there with his was just killed or if someone lowered him from the top of the chimney,” the forensic artist replied.

          “Well it would take two people to get the dead body onto the roof and lower it, plus that would lead to too many possible witnesses,” Booth said.

          “That’s what I thought but the other option, the computer says, requires a man that has the upper body strength capabilities to lift dead weight of about two hundred pounds,” Angela told them.

          “I don’t know about you but no way Agent Fitzpatrick can lift two hundred pounds by himself.  His frame and muscle tone would only allow around one hundred,” Brennan said.

          “So then he had to have help,” Booth gritted his teeth.  The FBI agent left the room in a hurry and Brennan quickly followed after him.

          “Booth, what are you going to?”  She asked him, seeing the look of determination in his eyes.

          “I’m going to haul his ass into Headquarters.  He lied to us and I have a suspicion that **_he_** is the leak,” her partner said.

          “That certainly is possible.  His story did seem farfetched but…” Brennan didn’t get to finish.

          “If he had anything to do with the deaths of Agent Forest and Agent Leonard, I’ll kill him myself,” Booth said.  Brennan tried to keep up with him and eventually she did but not before he grabbed the security guard that people had come to know as Joe.

          “You’re under arrest,” Booth said as he slammed the man into the wall and cuffed his hands behind his back.

          “What are you doing?”  Agent Fitzpatrick said, knowing his cover was blown.

          “You lied to a Federal Agent.  Being one you’d think you’d know better,” Booth told him.  Surprisingly, Fitzpatrick had no come back.  Brennan watched the whole scene and then followed Booth and his captive out of the Jeffersonian and out to the government issued SUV.

          Her partner flung open the back door and shoved Fitzpatrick into the back.  Then he walked around and climbed into the driver’s side.

          “I’m coming with you,” Brennan said as she hopped into the passenger side.  Booth gave her a look but didn’t comment as he fired up the engine and drove the SUV down to FBI Headquarters.  

          Meanwhile, on the other side of town, FBI Agent Tom Croft was being held against his will.  He was chained to a chair while his captors argued about how to get information out of him.

          “What do you want from me?”  Croft asked.  His response was to be punched in the face.

          “Shut up!”  One of his captors said.  “When we want you to talk we’ll let you know,” the man continued.  Agent Croft spit blood out of his mouth onto the floor.

          “That wasn’t very bright,” the second captor said as he hit his partner in the back of the head.

          “I apologize for my colleague.  There is no need to be causing you pain now when we will definitely be doing it later,” a smirk crossed the second man’s face.  Croft just sat there trying to figure out a way to escape or call for help.

          “You asked what we want from you and the answer is very simple.  We want the information pertaining to Mr. Salvalzo’s case.  Where he’s being held?  How many guards are there?  Where you are keeping the evidence?  You know the usual type questions,” the second man said.

          “Why would I tell you?”  Croft asked.

          “If you want to see your girlfriend again, I suggest you cooperate,” the first man said.  He smirked and pulled a picture of Tom’s girlfriend Casey out of his pocket.

          “You leave her out of this,” the FBI agent said.

          “We will if you tell us what we want to know,” the second man promised. 


	6. Chapter 6

**FBI Headquarters Wednesday at 12:30 pm**

          Brennan watched through the one-way glass window as Booth paced the room.  So far all he’d done was thrown Agent Fitzpatrick into one of the chairs.  She wondered what he was waiting for until Deputy Director Cullen walked into the room.

          “Dr. Brennan,” He only nodded his greeting as he moved into the interrogation room.  The forensic anthropologist just nodded and focused her attention on the scene before her.  When Cullen entered the room, Booth stopped pacing and stiffened.  A smirk crossed his face.  Fitzpatrick gave Booth a look and then turned around.

          “I’m Deputy Director Cullen.  I’ve been informed that you believe there is a leak in the FBI.  From what I hear from Agent Booth, you are the leak.  Prove me wrong or be prepared for a very long afternoon, Fitzpatrick,” The tall balding man took a seat across from the arrested Agent.

          “Booth blew my cover.  I thought we had a deal,” Fitzpatrick said.

          “We did until my partner and I found out you were lying,” Booth told him.

          “I didn’t lie,” The other agent defended himself.

          “That’s not what I hear.  The squints at the Jeffersonian discovered that there was no physical way you could shove a man up into a chimney by yourself.  Care to explain it to me?”  Cullen spoke up.  At this Fitzpatrick sagged his shoulders; Brennan noted he knew that the lie had been found.

          “I didn’t do it on my own,” The agent sighed heavily.

          “Tell us something we don’t know,” Booth sneered, leaning over the table getting in the man’s face.

          “You have to protect me,” Fitzpatrick said.

          “Give us one good reason,” Booth was in no mood.  Brennan smiled at his behavior.  She knew that he didn’t like being lied to and it was part of the reason she had fallen for him.  They both loved the truth and both wanted to find that for the cases they solved.

          “You have to believe that I would never do anything to betray this agency or this country but I had no choice in the matter,” John told them.

          “What do you mean no choice?”  Cullen asked.

          “Shortly after we arrested Salvalzo and shut down his restaurant, two men approached me.  They said that if I didn’t do as they said, they would kill my sister and her family,” Fitzpatrick explained.

          “So what did they want?”  Booth demanded.

          “They wanted the names of the agent’s on the case and information about where their boss was being held.  You have to understand, years ago my sister witnessed a Mob hit and she was put into the Witness Protection Program.  How they found her, I don’t know but I couldn’t take that chance,” The agent said.

          “Who knows about your sister and why didn’t you tell Booth before?”  Cullen asked, hoping his agent wouldn’t lose it.

          “No one knows about my sister except Witness Protection and now you guys.  As far as telling Booth before I wasn’t sure who to trust, I figured if I told part of the story it would be enough to keep my sister safe,” Fitzpatrick told them.

          “Who helped you kill the man in the chimney?”  Booth backed off a little.

          “I’m not sure who we killed but I was told to do it as part of my deal.  The guy who helped me only gave me his first name, Jimmy,” The agent said.

          “That’s not much to go on,” Cullen told him.  To Booth he said,

          “Look up who has been put in charge of Mr. Salvalzo’s case now.  See if they can’t shed some light on the name Jimmy.  Also see who is aware of Mr. Fitzpatrick’s sister,”

          “As for you Fitzpatrick, you are on unpaid leave pending a complete investigation.  You’ll be kept in custody to ensure that you will testify should there be a trial.  I can’t speak for the District Attorney but I can’t imagine you’ll get away without any jail time, if you have a lawyer you might want to contact him,” The Deputy Director informed the Agent.  Fitzpatrick slumped n his seat and nodded.  Brennan knew there was a good chance that John would no longer be an FBI Agent when this was all over.  She watched as Booth hauled him out of his seat and exited the interrogation room.  Cullen followed after but he stopped at the forensic anthropologist.

          “Dr. Brennan, I need to inform you that you could be in danger in association with this case.  This goes for the rest of your team as well,” He told her.

          “I understand sir.  I’m sure Cam will have no problem stepping up security at the Lab,” She said.

          “I was thinking more along the lines of a personal detail,” Cullen informed her.

          “I can stay at the Lab, it’s not as though I haven’t done it before,” Brennan told him.  The Deputy Director sighed.

          “I don’t think you completely understand the severity of the situation,” He said.

          “The Mob is nothing new.  I have been to South America during revolutions and the Balkans during times of genocide, I am not afraid,” The forensic anthropologist refused to back down.

          “Booth is right, you are stubborn,” Cullen shook his head and left the room.  Brennan followed him and headed towards Booth’s office. 

          When she reached there she found her partner on his office phone.  The look on his face was one that told her something wasn’t right.  The forensic anthropologist waited until he was off the phone to ask about what was going on.

          “What is it?”  She wondered.

          “The new agent on the case, Tom Croft, has gone missing,” Booth let out an exasperated sigh.

          “So Fitzpatrick was telling the truth.  There is a leak in his division,” Brennan said.

          “They have a team trying to track him down as we speak.  As soon as they know something, we’ll know,” the FBI agent shook his head. 

          “What now?”  His partner asked.

          “We’ll get you back to the Lab and have Cam beef up security.  We still need to know who the guy on your table is.  Hopefully you’ll be able to get a real ID on him,” Booth said.

          “Angela has been working on that and Hodgins and Zach are still working on the bones,” Brennan informed him.  Booth nodded and came around his desk.  He placed his hand in the small of her back and led her out of his office.  The partners headed to the elevator and out to the SUV. 

          FBI Special Agent Tom Croft sat in the chair he was tied to; his right eye was swollen shut and he was bleeding from his nose and mouth.  The two men who had been assaulting him were surprised that he had held out for so long.

          “I guess you don’t like your girlfriend.  A shame really, she is very beautiful,” the first one who’d hit him said.

          “I told you to leave her out of this,” Croft mumbled the words out of his injured mouth.

          “And we said we would if you tell us what we want to know,” the second one told him.

          “I’ve told you what I know.  I was just assigned to the case, I wasn’t completely briefed,” the FBI agent lied.

          “We don’t believe you and if you don’t start telling the truth, we’ll be sure to make your girlfriend’s death a painful one,” the first one spoke again.  Knowing he was caught between a rock and a hard place, Croft tried to see if he could stall them.

          “How do I know that you haven’t killed her already?”  He asked.

          “You’ll have to take our word for it,” the second one said.

          “Like I can trust you.  I want to know that she is all right,” Croft demanded.  The first one pulled back to hit him again but the second stopped him.

          “I have an idea.  We’ll prove she is unharmed if you give some real information, do you promise to do so?”  The second asked.

          “I swear,” Croft lied.

          “Very well, Jimmy, go and fetch the proof we need,” the second one said. 


	7. Chapter 7

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Wednesday at 3:30 pm**

          Brennan stood over the completely cleaned skeleton trying to access any information that jumped out at her.  The broken neck was the cause of death; they already knew that and the breaks in the ankles were from being stuffed in the chimney.  Thoughts raced around in her head and she looked over the bones.  She stopped at the left humerus.  There appeared to be a healed break on the upper arm bone.  Most arm fractures occurred in the radii and ulnas, not the humerus. 

          “Zach, take a look at the left humerus,” the young doctor picked it up to examine it more closely.

          “It appears to have been a healed fracture.  How will this help us identify the victim?”  He asked.

          “We should be able to narrow our scope of possibilities.  Not many people go to the hospital to have their humerus put in a cast,” Brennan told him. Zach nodded in understanding.

          “Take this piece of information to Angela.  If she adds this to her profile we might get a hit,” she continued.  Dr. Addy left the platform and headed over to the forensic artist’s office.  A few minutes later, someone scanned onto the platform and she assumed it was her young colleague.  However the hand upon her back indicated otherwise.

          “Booth,” she smiled and turned around.

          “Hey you,” he smiled back.

          “I’ve been thinking about Fitzpatrick’s story and something isn’t right,” the forensic anthropologist said.

          “That wasn’t what I was hoping for but go on,” the FBI agent smirked as he moved away from her.

          “Well at first he said, he did it himself and then he said there was a third party involved.  First he killed the man in the chimney and then this Jimmy he talked about helped him.  I know it doesn’t take two men to snap someone’s neck,” Brennan told him.

          “This is true but it’s hard to tell what Fitzpatrick has said that is the truth.  All we know for sure is that the victim had his neck snapped and that there was someone there named Jimmy.  The District Attorney is questioning him today and I have Sam going through the Salvalzo file to see if Jimmy pops up anytime,” her partner said.  

          “So what do we do in the meantime?”  She wondered.        

          “Does the name Frank Coughlin mean anything to anyone?”  Angela interrupted as she swiped herself onto the platform.

          “No, why?”  Booth asked.

          “Because I have positively ID’d our victim,” she smiled.

          “How did you do that?  I just sent Zach down to tell you about the humerus break,” Brennan raised her right eyebrow.

          “Simple, I had it down to a couple of candidates and that little piece of information left only one person, Frank Coughlin,” Angela handed the information over to Booth, who picked through the file.

          “This guy has a rap sheet about five feet long.  Extortion, vandalism, armed robbery, misdemeanor assault, and it goes on.  Sounds like a career working for the Mob,” Booth nodded.

          “So why did he have to die?”  Brennan wondered.

          “I think it’s time to visit his parole officer.  He might be able to shed some light on the subject,” her partner said.

          “I’m coming with you,” the forensic anthropologist told him.

          “Oh no you’re not.  You are staying here where it is safe.  Don’t try to argue with me Bones.  I don’t want you to get hurt,” Booth put his foot down.

          “Booth, I am perfectly capable of handling myself,” she started.

          “Yeah and the Mob is good at making people disappear or dead.  I…” he didn’t finish his sentence.  Despite Angela knowing about their secret relationship, he couldn’t say anything with other people around.  Brennan could see the concern in his eyes and against her better judgment gave in.

          “All right,” she sighed.  Booth gave a slight smile and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

          “I love you,” then he turned and walked away leaving the two friends on the platform.

          “Damn, sweetie.  He has you wrapped around his finger doesn’t he?  You actually backed down,” a wide smile spread across her face.  Before Brennan could answer, Hodgins swiped into the platform and swatted Angela’s bottom.

          “Hey!”  She turned around with mock anger on her face.

          “Hey yourself babe.  Our friendly little dermestes maculates didn’t come up with anything dangerous unless you consider the drug cocktail, I found,” the entomologist said.

          “Drug cocktail?”  Brennan asked.

          “Yeah, I found traces of heroin and cocaine in the hide beetles,” Hodgins told them.

          “Is there any way to tell how large the doses were?”  The forensic anthropologist inquired.

          “Not really but considering the beetles were still digesting it, I would say an awful lot,” he said.

          “‘Awful lot’? Is that a technical term?”  Angela teased.

          “You bet it is, sweet cheeks,” Hodgins eyes her up and down.  Brennan rolled her eyes and whipped out her cell phone. 

          “Booth is going to want to hear this,” she said.

**The Other Side of Town, Wednesday at 5:00 pm**

          Tom Croft watched in horror as the man who had been called Jimmy brought in his girlfriend Casey.  She was blindfolded and had her hands tied behind her back.

          “Casey,” the word came out of the FBI agent’s lips and immediately the woman responded.

          “Tom, is that you?”  She asked as Jimmy pushed her to the ground, next to her boyfriend.  The second mobster removed the blindfold and she finally saw where she was and what was going on.

          “I told you to leave her out of this!”  Croft yelled as best he could as the pain seared into cheeks and jaw.

          “And we told you to tell us what we want to know.  Now spill it,” Jimmy said gruffly.

          “No need to be so rough, Jimmy.  Now Mr. Croft tell us want we want to know and we’ll let you and your girlfriend go,” the first one told them.  Tom knew this was a lie.  Once he spilled the information both of their bodies would probably be found floating in the Potomac six months from now.

          “All right I’ll tell you what you want to know.  But you have to lean down real close so I can whisper it,” the broken and bleeding FBI agent said.

          “Whisper it?”  The first one was a little confused.

          “My mouth hurts,” Croft told them.

          “Ah so this is what we get for Jimmy not being able to control his temper,” the other man shook his head.  He leaned in so the injured man could tell him what he wanted to know.  Croft took a deep breath and prepared himself for what he was about to do.

          “Screw you!”  He shouted as loud as he could into the other man’s ear and then he spit in the man’s face.

          “You shouldn’t have done that,” Jimmy said.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Other Side of Town, Wednesday at 5:30 pm**  
          “No, Jimmy.  Let me handle this,” the first one said as he wiped the blood and spit mix off his face.  Jimmy gave him a look and the man nodded.  The hired goon backed off and the other man grabbed Croft’s head and pulled it back.

          “Now was that absolutely necessary?  We have been pretty good to you so far,” the man told him.

          “Oh and you think hitting me and kidnapping my girlfriend is good?”  Croft asked, hoping that the longer he dragged things out the better the chances of the FBI finding them.

          “I assure you that if you knew who I was you would be a little more frightened.  I’m sure that my colleagues don’t call me ‘The Strangler’ for nothing,” he said.  This made croft swallow hard.  There was only one man he knew with that nickname.

          “So you’re Joseph ‘The Strangler’ Mancotti.  Well, I guess I’d better let the boys at Headquarters know, when I see them,” Tom told him.

          “Oh so you think you’ll see them again?”  Mancotti smiled.

          “If you want your information, I will,” Croft said.  At this the murderer let the FBI agent’s head go. 

          “I thought so,” it was Croft’s turn to smirk.

          “Jimmy, do me a favor and take our female guest and teach her the meaning of pain,” Mancotti ordered.

          “With pleasure,” Jimmy smiled and grabbed the frightened woman from her spot on the floor.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had pleasurably company.”

          “Don’t you dare touch her!”  Croft shouted again causing shooting pains in his mouth.

          “Tell me what I want to know and I promise that Jimmy won’t get what he wants,” Mancotti told him.  There was no way to know whether the Mob assassin was telling the truth and the fact of the matter was, Croft had been stalling for a long time.  The FBI could be not even close to finding them.  Also there was no way of knowing what would happen once he spilled the beans.  Tom let out a big sigh and opened his mouth when suddenly men and women wearing black vests with big white letters on them filled the room.

          “FBI FREEZE!!!”  Jimmy let go of Casey and reached for something behind his back.  An agent was afraid the man was going for a weapon, shot him in the shoulder.  Jimmy fell to the ground grabbed at the wound.

Mancotti stared at the agents as if he was trying to make a decision.  All the murders he had committed would no doubt put in prison for the rest of his days if not the death penalty in some states.

          “I said FREEZE!”  An agent shouted.  That’s when Mancotti hatched a plan.  He quickly dove at Croft and the agents were forced to hold their fire for fear of shooting their colleague.

          “One step closer and I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” the Mob assassin said.

          “All right we won’t take a shot.  Just calm down, ” the lead agent said.  Those words were a cue for the sharpshooters positioned outside to take a shot if they got one.  Words buzzed into the lead agent’s ear.

          “I have a good kill shot.  Should I take it?  Give me a nod,” that was all it took.  A slight head movement from the agent and a bullet was fired from the sniper rifle’s muzzle at an amazing 1910.34 miles per hour (854 meters per second).  Mancotti never knew what hit him as he slumped to the floor, brain matter coming out of the wound and out of the front of his face.  Croft got covered in the pieces as well but the struggle was over.    

          “What took you guys so long?”  Tom asked as his colleagues loosened the ropes that bound him.

          “You know SWAT, they always want to make an entrance,” his friend and fellow agent Phil Brown smiled.

          “That they do.  What about Casey?” Tom asked as the helped him to a waiting ambulance.

          “They’re helping her.  If it wasn’t for her, we never would have found you,” Phil told him.

          “Oh yeah.  How’s that?”  Tom wondered.

          “We had a surveillance detail on her apartment and when that character took her we followed him figuring that he was coming to the place they had you,” his friend said.  This made Tom chuckle as they loaded him into the ambulance and the emergency vehicle took off for the hospital.

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Wednesday at 8:30 pm**

                “Sorry I’m late Bones,” Booth said as he walked into her office carrying an overnight bag, some Thai take-out, and a six pack of beer.

          “Booth, what are you doing?”  She asked.

          “Well you’re confined to quarters and I’m here to make the most of it,” the FBI agent smiled his usual smile as he placed her dinner on her desk.

          “You didn’t have to do that,” Brennan smiled as she stopped looking at her paperwork and picked up the wonderful smelling Oriental food.

          “I have some information on the case and I figured that everyone else went home so we could have some alone time together,” Booth gave her a naughty look.

          “In my office?”  She smirked.

          “Well we could do it in the middle of the lab but I think security might get a little grossed out,” he chuckled.  The forensic anthropologist laughed and went to sit with him on the couch.  The two began to tuck into their food before Booth brought up the case information.  He explained the earlier rescue of Agent Croft and the killing of Joseph Mancotti.

          “So Mancotti worked for Salvalzo and wanted to know where his boss was being held.  The Mob must really what this information if they are going to such lengths to get it,” Brennan mused as she took a sip of her beer.

          “Well the only one left that they can get at is Fitzpatrick.  The guy named Jimmy that he talked about was arrested today in the rescue,” her partner explained as he took some of his food and placed into his mouth.

          “So he’s the guy that helped Fitzpatrick stuff Frank Coughlin into the chimney,” the forensic anthropologist said.  Booth chewed for a minute before answering.

          “Yes.  They’re removing the bullet from his shoulder tonight and we’ll be able to talk to him in the morning,”

          “What did Coughlin’s parole officer say about him?”  Brennan asked as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

          “The guy’s name is Jason Franz.  He said that as part of Coughlin’s parole deal was to snitch on the Mob.  At the last meeting they had Coughlin said that he thought that someone was onto him and he wanted out,” the FBI agent told her.

          “So someone finds out that Coughlin’s a snitch and they have him removed.  Fitzpatrick said that he didn’t know whom he killed and shoved into the chimney but said an informant lured him to the spot.  Do you think he knew Coughlin was the guy that they killed?”  Brennan wondered.

          “It’s possible.  We’ll have to talk to him tomorrow too,” Booth said as he swigged his beer.

          “What about the drug cocktail that Hodgins found?  Did that lead you anywhere?”  His partner inquired.

          “Well according to Franz, the drugs were news to him.  He said that Coughlin always passed his drug tests so there’s a good possibility that that Jimmy drugged him before dragging him to that house that was to be demolished,” Booth explained.  Brennan nodded and ate some more of her Thai food as her partner continued.

          “As far as the house goes there are no ties to the Mob and the demolition has been rescheduled for next week,”

          “It would seem that we have both our murderers in custody.  Case closed,” Brennan said.

          “Almost, we still have to question Jimmy and get the official story to close it.  But something still bothers me,” Booth said as he picked up the empty food containers and headed for the garbage can to throw them out.

          “What’s that?”  The forensic anthropologist wondered.

          “Well why go through all that trouble to bring Fitzpatrick in on the murder of Coughlin and then not get the information from him?  Why then go after Croft and his girlfriend?”  Her partner asked as he moved to the blinds and shut them.

          “Very good questions,” Brennan said as she moved over to him and shut and locked her office door.

          “There has to be a leak somewhere in the case but I can’t seem to nail down anyone.  Somehow the Mob is getting information and they used it to kill two FBI agents and a snitch, attempted to murder another FBI agent and his girlfriend, and somehow in the middle of it all they still don’t have the information they wanted,” Booth told her as they sat back down on the couch.

          “There is something off about all that but once we have talked to Jimmy and Fitzpatrick, the Jeffersonian has no reason to be involved with the case,” she reminded him as she put her head on his shoulder. 

          “I know,” he sighed.  Brennan could feel the tension in his upper body as he tried to relax.  She moved her head off his shoulder and kissed him.

          “I think I know something that might help,” she got a look in her eyes.

          “Oh you do huh?”  He asked.

          “Well you did promise me that we’d make the most of my night,” the forensic anthropologist smirked. 

          “That I did.  Does this couch pull out into a bed?”  Her partner wondered.

          “You bet it does,” Brennan beamed.

The Hospital, Wednesday at 10:00 pm 

          Jimmy lay asleep in his hospital bed.  The surgery to remove the bullet lodged in his shoulder was a success and now he had been handcuffed to the bed so he could be kept in police custody.  The nurse on duty was filling out paperwork when a man came by and flashed a Washington D.C. policeman’s badge.

          “We have reason to believe that the suspect in custody could be in danger.  I’ve been assigned to watch him,” the man said.

          “All right, he’s just down the hall in room 325,” the nurse smiled.

          “Thank you ma’am, you have a nice night,” the officer told her.

          “You too,” she continued to smile and went back to her paperwork.  The man went down the hall and slipped into the murderer’s room.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 5:30 am**

          Booth opened his eyes and looked around.  Brennan’s clock on the wall read five-thirty and he knew that he had to get up.  Security had been informed that he would be spending the night as part of his partner’s security detail and they expected he’d have to be around the lab in the early morning. 

          He turned to look at the woman he’d shared a pullout sofa bed with.  She was still peacefully asleep, her auburn hair draped all over the pillow that usually sat atop the couch.  The forensic anthropologist had her head close to his chest, the sound of his heartbeat reminding her that it was safe.  _I hate to wake her but if I know the squints they’ll be in soon_ , he said to himself.  Booth was about to kiss her forehead when his cell phone rang.  It seemed incredibly loud and unfortunately it was on the other side of the room, where his pants had ended up.  Brennan stirred and Booth carefully and quickly separated himself from her. 

          The FBI agent pulled up his boxer shorts and crossed the room.  He grabbed his pants from the chair they were on and fished around in the pockets.  He found his phone and answered it.

          “Booth.”

          “I was beginning to think you were ignoring me,” the all too familiar voice came over the line.

          “Sorry, sir,” Booth said.

          “We have a situation down at the hospital.  I need you get over there as soon as you can,” Cullen told him.

          “Yes sir.  What kind of situation?”  The agent wondered.

          “Seems our murderer has disappeared.  I need you to check things out,” his boss said.

          “Do I need to take Bones with me?”   Booth asked.  A sigh came from the other end of the line.  _That can’t be good_ , Booth thought.

          “There is a note on Jimmy ‘Concrete Fist’ Visone’s bed…” Cullen’s voice trailed off.

          “Sir?”  The ex-Army Ranger didn’t like where this was going. 

          “I’m told the note says something about Dr. Brennan,” his boss told him.  The color-drained slightly from Booth’s face; that note officially meant that Bones was a target. 

          “I’ll be there soon sir,” he confirmed and shut the phone.  He turned to see Brennan sitting up on the bed, the sheet wrapped around her.  She looked beautiful and he hated to tell her what he had just been told.

          “There’s been a problem at the hospital.  I have to get over there,” Booth told her.  Brennan let out a sigh and a slight smile.

          “Well I should have known that lying around in bed was out of the question when I started dating an FBI agent,” she said.  He half smiled and started scooping up the remainder of his clothes.  The silence in the room was suddenly oppressive and Brennan could sense he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

          “What’s going on Booth?”  She asked.  He let out a big sigh. 

          “You can hold back all you want but I know something is going on,” the forensic anthropologist said.  Booth pulled his shirt and pants on followed by his shoes before he answered.

          “Last night Jimmy Visone disappeared from the hospital.  A note was left on his bed…” the FBI agent didn’t want to finish.

          “What did it say?”  Brennan wanted to know.    

          “Basically that the Mob has every intention of making you the next target.  You identified Coughlin and now they’re going to come after you,” Booth informed her.  He was surprised to see the look of determination on her face.  Sure she had had threats before but this case had shown that the Mob was ready to kill anyone in their way.

          “I’m not afraid.  I’ve had hundreds of cases and plenty of times where the perpetrators have gotten too close.  I’m not going to back down,” she was set in her resolve.  Booth came closer to her and took her lips in his.  When they parted he said,

          “I love you and I don’t want to see you get hurt.  Promise me you’ll stay inside the Jeffersonian until I get back,” 

          “I promise.  Now go before Cullen gets angry with you,” Brennan gave him a small smile and watched him slip out of the office.  She looked up at the clock and realized it was just after six.  Her teammates would be in soon and she needed to get dressed and clean up her office.  The forensic anthropologist got up and began straightening things up.

**The Hospital, Thursday at 6:45 am**

          Booth had made record time to the hospital.  He wore the extra suit he kept in his office and had cleaned himself up with some of the alcohol wipes he kept in the SUV for Parker.  It wasn’t the best look he’d ever had but it was sufficient for now.

          He walked into the hospital and quickly took the elevator to the third floor.  When he got off he could see the DC Police and a few FBI agents. 

          “Booth, I’m glad Cullen got a hold of you,” Agent Becker said.

          “Do you know exactly what happened here?”  Booth wanted to know.

          “Last night around ten pm, a guy dresser as a DC cop flashed his badge at the nurse who was on duty, said he was here to protect Visone after a threat on his life,” Becker explained.

          “Why was there only one nurse on last night?”  Booth asked.

          “There wasn’t; around ten-fifteen they had a code blue in one of the rooms down at the end of the hall.  The three that were on rushed down the hall and there was another on break.  Basically no one saw anything,” the second agent explained.

          “Nobody thought to check on the guy?”  Booth asked him.

          “Why check on him when there was supposed to be an officer there?  They said the policeman went into the room and was keeping an eye on him,” Becker said.

          “So our guy either got really lucky or he had some help,” Booth rubbed his forehead. 

          “I’m thinking he had some help.  According to the nurses, they thought it was odd that the guy who had his heart stop was in here because he broke both his legs when he was hit crossing the street.  No way they said his heart should have given out,” Becker told him.

          “Did the guy pull through?”  The exhausted agent asked.

          “Yeah, they were able to save him but he’s all looped up on medication and doesn’t remember anything,” Both agents simultaneously shook their heads.

          “All right do they have cameras?”  Booth inquired.

          “Yes in the parking garage and in the lobby,” Becker said.

          “Good.  I want you to get those tapes together and I’ll have the Jeffersonian take a look and see if they can get something off them.  In the meantime, I want to see Visone’s room,” the ex-Ranger told him.

          “Very good.  I’ll have those tapes in about ten minutes,” Becker promised and walked toward the elevator.  Booth took a deep breath and walked into the room.  The forensics people were combing over the place looking for some sort of clue as to who had been in there and what had happened.

          “Do you guys have the note that was left behind?”  He asked one of them.

          “Yes, sir,” the man handed over the letter in a clear evidence bag and Booth read it to himself.  There was only one statement in the piece of computer paper, confirming the FBI agent’s worst fears.

_‘Dr. Temperance Brennan is next.’_   It was written in all caps, which meant a handwriting expert would be pressed to find anything useful.  He handed the note back to the forensic scientist and then looked around the room.  They were three stories up, so the guy didn’t jump out the window, he’d had to of taken Visone back out to the elevator.  With Visone on pain medication and what looked like a police officer pushing him in a wheelchair no one would have questioned anything.  He had better get a look at those tapes. 


	10. Chapter 10

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 7:30 am**

          Angela walked into her best friend’s office and found it empty.  The room seemed to be much like it always was except it smelled a little funny.  Smiling, the forensic artist took a seat and waited for Brennan to arrive. 

          About twenty minutes later, her friend entered the office.  Brennan’s hair was wet and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a light purple top.  The dolphin necklace Booth had given her was also around her neck, Angela noticed as Brennan fingered it.

          “Morning hun.  Shower in the contamination room again?”  The forensic artist asked.

          “Good morning and yes.  I’m under protective detail and have to stay at the lab until the case is resolved,” the last statement made Brennan roll her eyes slightly. 

          “Well as long as your protection detail was wearing protection you’re in good shape,” a smirk crossed Angela’s face.  Brennan was caught a little off guard and couldn’t think of a smart retort before her friend continued.

          “I know Booth was here last night.  It’s that cologne he wears, I can smell it,” Angela continued to smile.

          “Yes he was here.  He is part of my protective detail.  We both spent the night in my office,” Brennan told her without giving away much.

          “And by spent the night, you mean,” the forensic artist raised her eyebrows up and down a few times.

          “If you must know, the couch is a pullout,” Brennan said.

          “I’ll never be able to look at your couch the same way again.  Hodgins and I have managed to conquer the storage room and the occasional broom closet but never my office.  Too many people can wander in and out,” Angela explained.  The forensic anthropologist smiled and wondered,

          “Now was there some reason you can in this morning, other than to ask me about my night?”

          “Not really but I’m guessing since your knight in FBI standard issue armor isn’t here that we might have some work to do soon,” Angela said.

          “You have no idea how right you are,” Booth interrupted as he walked into the office, holding some videotapes.

          “Last night Jimmy Visone disappeared from the hospital.  These tapes hold the key to who got him out.  I need you to go through them and run that special software you have,” the FBI agent continued and handed the tapes over to Angela.

          “Sure, I’ll get right on that,” the forensic artist smiled and left the room.  Booth turned to Brennan, a serious look on his face.  Brennan didn’t like where this was going.

          “The only other person who can tell us what’s going on is Fitzpatrick.  There is a good chance that we’ll never see Visone again,” her partner said.

          “And since he’s been lying to us the whole time how are we supposed to be able to trust him?”  Brennan asked.

          “We don’t.  It seems odd that the Mob would have recruited him and not gotten the info they wanted from him, unless he was the leak,” Booth told her.

          “But if he was the leak wouldn’t they have tried to break Salvalzo out already?”  The forensic anthropologist wondered.  Booth was about to answer that when his phone rang.  He quickly pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open.

          “Booth.”  The agent received whatever news he was getting and his serious face got even more serious.

          “Thanks Sam,” he hung up and turned to Brennan. 

          “What is it?”  She inquired.

          “There’s been an incident at Federal Witness Holding,” was all Booth said.

**Federal Witness Holding Thursday at 8:30 am**

          Booth and Brennan entered the building to find the alert sounding.  A security guard met them and asked in a loud voice,

          “Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan?”

          “That’s us,” the former confirmed just as loud, flashing his ID.

          “Right this way,” the guard said and led them down the hall.  They passed through a barred door and down to the scene that had been taped off.  Brennan ducked under the tape and Booth followed along with the head guard. 

          “We found him this way this morning.  We weren’t sure what happened, that’s why we figured we’d call you in,” the guard shouted above the alarm.

          “Can we get that…” Booth never finished as the alarm was finally silenced.

          “We had to find the source of it.  When the alarm was tripped we did an automatic lock down and that’s when we found him.  According to the records that should be John Fitzpatrick but with his face all messed up like that…” the guard’s sentence stopped part way.  Brennan crouched down and looked at the body on the floor.  It looked as though the prisoner had had his face smashed into the wall a couple of times.  Blood had run from his nose, mouth, and even his eyes.  Something was seriously amiss.  The victim’s skin appeared to be purple all over his body and there was no apparent cause.  Tissue wasn’t her specialty but she knew that bruising would not have happened so quickly. 

          “We have to get this body back to the lab,” Brennan spoke up.

          “How could this happen?  This is Federal Witness Holding not Sing-Sing,” Booth said.  The guard was about to speak up when Brennan interrupted.

          “We really need to get him back to the lab as soon as possible.  I believe that he might have been injected with something,” there was an urgency in her voice and her partner could tell that she was worried.

          “All right, we’ll get him to the lab,” he said.

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 10:00 am**

          Cam stood over the purple body and carefully cut into the strange skin.  There was little resistance and the Head of Forensics found this odd but then again a purple body was odd to start with.  Once inside the body she discovered that the bones had mysteriously deteriorated.  They were pocked and rough.  Cam grabbed the rib spreader and placed the apparatus where she normally would during an autopsy.  However when she tried to spread the ribs, they broke into hundreds of pieces.

          “What the…” she started.  Quickly she went to the phone and removed her rubber gloves.  Then she picked up the phone and dialed the number of the platform.

          “You’d better get over here,” Cam said when the forensic anthropologist picked up the phone. 


	11. Chapter 11

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 10:05 am**

                Brennan rushed to the autopsy room and found Cam looking over the body.  Then she saw the deterioration of the rib cage and immediately asked,

          “What happened?”

          “I tried to separate his ribs and they shattered into a thousand pieces.  I’ve never seen anything like this,” Cam said.

          “Neither have I.  Are you running a tox screen?  Did you find any puncture wounds?”  The forensic anthropologist inquired.

          “I am running a tox screen.  I swept the body and found a needle mark on his thigh.  Whatever was injected into him, ate him from the inside out,” the Head of Forensics told her. 

          “It’s corrosive enough to eat through his bones, is there anyway to stop it?”  Brennan wondered.

          “Until the screen comes back, there is no way to tell what it is.  If I try to neutralize whatever it is and I’m wrong we could lose evidence.  On the other hand if I don’t neutralize it we are going to lose the evidence anyway,” Cam explained.  This was cause to make both of them worry.

          “Well then we’d better work fast,” the forensic anthropologist said.  She went to the phone and quickly called Zach.

          Meanwhile in Angela’s office, the forensic artist was busy scouring the tapes from the hospital’s parking garage and lobby.  Booth paced anxiously in the room behind her. 

          “You know if you continue to do that, I might throw up,” Angela told the nervous FBI agent.

          “Can’t you go any faster?”  He asked completely ignoring the remark she had thrown his way.

          “I’m going as fast as I can.  These videos aren’t of the highest quality and the software is trying to clean them up.  So far all I have is a shot of a guy wearing a Washington D.C. police uniform but you can’t see his face because of the hat,” the forensic artist told him.

          “This case has too many dead bodies attached for me to sit still,” Booth said.  The tone of his voice made it obvious that something else was going on.

          “That’s not why you’re in my office pacing though, is it?”  Angela asked.  She watched as the agent stopped moving and turned to her.

          “Just finish with those tapes and call me as soon as you get something.  I’m going to see if Bones has anything for me,” he avoided the question and left the room.  The forensic artist shook her head and turned back to the computer screen.  He would open up eventually.

          Booth made his way to the autopsy room and found Cam, Brennan, and Zach working furiously over what remained of the body.  He was about to enter the room when his phone rang.  Pulling it from his pocket, he saw that it was Cullen.  The FBI agent ducked into the forensic anthropologist’s office to answer it.

          “Booth,”

          “Any news on what happened to Visone or Fitzpatrick?”  His boss asked without the usual greeting.

          “Nothing yet sir.  The squints are working as fast as they can,” Booth told him.

          “Let me know as soon as you hear anything,” Cullen said gruffly.

          “Yes sir,” the G-man replied.  With that the call ended and it left Booth thinking that something big was going on.  Cullen never called him unless something bad had happened or there was important news.  The strange phone call didn’t stay in his mind for long as his phone rang again.  He looked at the caller and saw it was Bones.  The FBI agent left the office and moved next door.  Brennan gave him an odd look as she hung up her phone.

          “I thought you had gone back to your office,” she said.

          “Not when we have a missing suspect.  Anyway what have you got?”  He asked.

          “Someone injected Fitzpatrick with a highly corrosive liquid that ate through his bones and caused the bleeding from the eyes, nose, and mouth.  We’re running a tox screen but it won’t be done for at least an hour.  I thought you should know,” Brennan told him.

          “How did someone get a needle into lock up?”  Booth wondered aloud.

          “I don’t know, that’s your department,” she said.  He nodded and replied,

          “Call me as soon as you get something.  I’m heading back to lock up.”  With that the FBI agent left the Jeffersonian employees to their work and headed out to the government issued SUV.

**Federal Witness Holding, Thursday at 11:30 am**  

                “Back again Agent Booth?”  The question was kind of stupid but Booth let it slide.

          “Yes, I need to talk to your supervisor,” he said.

          “No problem.  I’ll give him a call,” the guard nodded and picked up the direct line to his boss’s office.  Less than a minute later, the supervisor arrived at the guard station.

          “Hello again Agent Booth, what can I do for you now?”  Supervisor Hricak asked.

          “We need to speak somewhere private,” the G-man told him.

          “Right this way to my office,” Hricak said.  The two men went through the gated entryway and made a left at a door where the supervisor had to punch in a special key code.  Once inside they walked to the end of the hallway and entered the office.  Hricak offered Booth a seat and the agent took it.

          “So what do we need to discuss?”  The Holding Center Supervisor asked.

          “John Fitzpatrick was injected with a highly corrosive liquid.  I’d like to know how someone would get a needle full of something like that in here,” Booth laid it out for him. 

          “Highly corrosive liquid?  Like what?”  The question seemed odd but the FBI agent answered it.

          “The Jeffersonian is still running tests but what I want to know is how a needle gets in here and a key witness in high profile case gets murdered inside these walls,” Booth said.

          “This isn’t a regular prison.  The people who come in here work for the FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, and occasionally the Secret Service,” Hricak told him.

          “I understand that but no one gets patted down?  Their weapons aren’t checked in at the door?”  Booth asked realizing the answer only after he spoke.

          “No.  It seems a little odd since we know that everyone is packing their service weapons,” the Supervisor said.

          “So anyone coming in could bring in a needle and no one would know about it,” the FBI agent saw that this was going to be tougher than he thought.

          “Yes, unfortunately.  However, we do keep meticulous logs of who comes in to visit,” Hricak told him.

          “Excellent.  I need to see them for anyone who has ever visited Fitzpatrick, hopefully whoever visited yesterday will have been dumb enough to leave their real name,” Booth said.

          “That’s no problem.  Would you want the security tapes as well?” the man across from him wondered.

          “Yes, I’ll need the Jeffersonian to go through them,” the ex-Army Ranger nodded.

          “I’ll have those up in a jiffy,” Hricak picked up the phone and called the guard station.  A short exchange occurred and then he hung up.

          “The guard is pulling them now.  They should be ready by the time you leave.  Is there anything else?”  The Supervisor wondered.

          “Yes, was there anyone specific that Fitzpatrick hung out with during lunch or yard time?”  Booth asked.

          “I wouldn’t know but I’m sure the guards on his cell block would.  I have their contact information let me get it for you,” Hricak quickly grabbed the Rolodex off the corner of his desk and jotted the contact information down on a piece of paper.

          “I hope this helps,” he said.

          “Oh I’m sure it will.  Thanks for your time,” The FBI agent gave a tight smile and stood up.  A few minutes later he was exiting the Holding Center with the information he needed.  Once inside his car he looked at the log in records.  The last person to visit Fitzpatrick was Cullen.

          “Shit,” Booth cursed under his breath.  There was no way that could be right.  That’s when he got a text message from Brennan. 

          “ _Fitzpatrick was given Hydrochloric acid._ ”  He was about to respond when his phone rang.  It was the blonde haired information man, Sam.

          “Booth,” he answered.

          “They found a body floating in Chesapeake Bay, or rather what is left of one.  Cullen says you should take Dr. Brennan,” Sam said.

          “Double shit,” Booth muttered.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chesapeake Bay, Thursday at 2:00 pm**  

          Brennan stepped out of the Jeffersonian van and grabbed her long black rubber boots.  She slipped them on over the pants of her navy jumpsuit.  Then the forensic anthropologist quickly pulled her auburn hair up into a ponytail and headed for the water’s edge where the local police had pulled to the body.

          “Is that who I think it is?”  Booth called from up on the shore as he got out of the SUV.

          “If you jump to conclusions about the hospital gown, then yes, I think you think it’s Jimmy ‘Concrete Fist’ Visone,” Brennan told him.

          “Crap,” was her partner’s only reply.  She nodded and continued to look at the body before allowing the local coroner’s office to lift him from the water.

          “I hope Angela is getting something off those tapes.  We have to catch this guy before someone else ends up dead,” Booth spoke up after a few minutes.

          “I’m sure she’ll call if she has found anything.  Getting all hypertensive isn’t going to make her work any faster,” his partner said as the waterlogged body was removed from the bay.  Brennan stopped the local coroner who had a name patch that read “Brett Smith” when she saw something strange.

          “What is it Bones?”  Booth asked.

          “Most bodies that have been in the water this short a time frame don’t look like this,” she said.

          “I thought something seemed odd about that,” her partner agreed.

          “We need to get him back to the lab as soon as possible if he was injected with acid like Fitzpatrick then we might have lost some evidence,” Brennan told him.

          “Wouldn’t the water dilute the acid?”  Booth wondered.

          “To an extent but not enough to stop the destruction of evidence, of course the water doesn’t help either,” she heaved a sigh.  Turning to the coroner she thanked him for stopping and asked him to load the body into the Jeffersonian van.  Then she walked to the cab of the vehicle and grabbed her shoes.  Brennan pulled off her boots and pulled on her sneakers so she could drive back to the lab.  The forensic anthropologist was about to get into the van when she heard a popping noise.  The next thing she heard was Booth shouting for her to take cover.  Instinct kicked in and she dropped to the ground and rolled under the large vehicle.  The sound of metal on metal sounded a few more times and then she heard the familiar sound of Booth’s Glock.  After what seemed like an eternity, the shooting stopped and all was quiet. 

          “Booth!”  Brennan shouted.  She hoped he would respond since she could not see him from her vantage point under the van.

          “Bones!”  He shouted back much to her relief.  The forensic anthropologist crawled out from under the Squintmobile to her partner’s out stretched hands.  He pulled her to her feet and quickly grabbed her shoulders.  Looking her all over to make sure that she wasn’t injured, he saw the terrified look in her blue eyes.  Despite the mud she was covered in, he pulled her into his arms and whispered into ear that it was over.  She seemed to calm down and he helped her into the SUV.  The Jeffersonian van had three bullet holes in the side but it was still drivable but now it was part of a crime scene.  Brett Smith promised to transfer the body from the Jeffersonian van to his van and drive to the lab.  Booth left the local cops to sort it out while he put on his lights and sirens and rushed back to the Jeffersonian.

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 4:00 pm**  

          “Sweetie!”  Angela shouted from her position on the platform as a muddy Brennan walked through the lab doors.  She friend rushed over to her and walked with her to the forensic anthropologist’s office.  Cam took one look at Booth and saw that he was just as muddy.

          “What happened?  I thought you were going to retrieve a body not take a mud bath,” Dr. Saroyan said.

          “We were until someone decided to try to use Bones for target practice,” Booth told her, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

          “What?”  Hodgins cut in.

          “Yeah the Jeffersonian is going to need another van.  It took the three shots meant for Bones,” the G-man explained.

          “So that means they broke Visone out of the hospital and then used him to lure Brennan out of the lab so they could eliminate her,” the entomologist said.

          “That appears to be their plan.  The Chesapeake coroner is driving the body over here.  Bones thought that he was injected with that acid again,” Booth filled them in.

          “I hope the body gets here soon then because otherwise there won’t be much left of it,” Cam spoke up.  Zach had been oddly quiet the whole time and the young doctor seemed to be staring off into space.

          “Hydrochloric acid is used to make vinyl chloride, Methylene diphenyl diisocyanate, Toluene diisocyanate, gelatin, and leather processing,” he finally said.

          “This helps us how?”  Booth asked a confused look on his face.

          “Vinyl chloride is used for making PVC piping and Methylene diphenyl diisocyanate and Toluene diisocyanate are used for polyurethane.  Have you come across anyone who runs a plastic business?”  Zach wondered.

          “No, but then again it’s the Mob so they could have some sort of connection.  What were you saying about food?”  The FBI agent inquired.

          “Gelatin and other cooking applications use Hydrochloric acid,” Zach told him.

          “Like restaurant cooking?”  Booth asked another question.

          “Well a restaurant wouldn’t get a bottle of acid but it could be used in their food.  When mixed with other food ingredients the acid is quite harmless,” the young forensic anthropologist said.

          “But it wouldn’t be that hard to get their hands on it if they prided themselves on being the only ones to use Snappy Gell?”  Booth wondered.

          “But most restaurants don’t make their own,” Zach said skeptically.

          “They were famous for using Snappy Gell, besides their Italian cooking,” he said.

          “Then that’s how they got their hands on it but it would take a whole factory to make the stuff.  Where do they own a factory?”  Hodgins wondered.

          “It wasn’t raided in the sting because it technically isn’t owned by Salvalzo but we suspected he had his hands in it,” Booth explained.

          “Oh so they control the guys who own Snappy Gell and you think they used that control to get their hands on the acid,” Hodgins was getting the whole sordid picture.

          “Exactly, they’re part of the money laundering.  Now they’re out to get Bones because you guys were able to make this link between them,” Booth said.

          “Where is the body?”  Brennan asked interrupting the think tank as she entered the platform, now wearing some clean clothes.

          “It’s not here yet, but it shouldn’t be too long now.  I need to check on something and then I’ll be back.  You promise me that you will stay inside the lab,” Booth told her.

          “I’m not a child,” she protested.

          “I know but I don’t want to have to explain to my boss why you’re dead either,” her partner said.  He didn’t want to sound cold but he had no choice in the matter.  Brennan took a deep breath and was about to respond when the lab doors opened and in came Brett Smith and the body from the bay.

          “Sorry, this took so long.  I got pulled over when a cop saw the bullet holes in the van,” he explained.

          “I just hope that the water diluted the acid enough that we can still get something,” Brennan said as she and Cam exited the platform and wheeled the body into autopsy.  Booth sighed and turned to leave.  That’s when Angela came out of her office and shouted,

          “Booth!  You have to see this!”


	13. Chapter 13

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 4:30 pm**

          The forensic artist’s uncharacteristic shout made Booth and the entire Squint Squad pile into her office.  They all crowded in front of the computer screen giving Angela barely enough room to move the mouse.

          “Can everyone back up a second?”  She asked a little frustrated.

          “Give her some room,” Hodgins defended his better half.  The group backed up and let the forensic artist continue.

          “I have a picture of the guy who came to visit Fitzpatrick and broke Visone out of prison.  They happen to be the same man,” she said.

          “You’re absolutely sure?”  Booth asked.

          “Yes, the facial recognition software pulled the faces out and matched them.  The database also identified them,” the sudden timidity in her voice made Booth nervous.  In the back of his mind, he hoped that it wasn’t Cullen.  The sign in could be forged but the picture would prove who was really behind this.

          “Pull the match up,” the FBI agent told her.  Angela took a deep breath and clicked the window she’d minimized on her screen.   Silence followed, as everyone couldn’t believe what they saw.  Booth broke the silence a minute later by saying,

          “That’s not possible,”

**FBI Headquarters, Thursday at 5:30 pm**

          Booth silently moved down the hall to the office he had been looking for.  Agent Flynn was behind him and Agents Hill and Brooke were on the other side of the door.  All four agents wore bulletproof vests and prepared to do something they wished they didn’t have to do.  Booth counted down using his fingers:  three, two, one, and then he clenched his fist and indicated for the door to be thrown open.  One swift kick was all it took and the door was flung open.  However, their quarry was nowhere to be seen.  Booth grabbed his hand radio and alerted the personnel all over the building,

          “I want this place locked down.  No one gets in and no one gets out.  He has to be here somewhere,” he said.  The stations on the floors replied and the building was shut down.

          “Comb every hallway, stairwell, and office.  I want him in interrogation tonight,” Booth told them.  It was then that Cullen walked out of his office.

          “What in the hell is going on Booth?”  The Deputy Director asked.

          “We found the mole, sir.  The only thing left to do is to bring him in,” Booth explained.

          “Who authorized the complete shutdown of the building?”  His boss inquired, his tone was a little threatening. 

          “Director Lillis authorized it.  I had to go above your head since the mole works directly under you,” the subordinate told him with as much respect as he could.  Cullen let out a deep sigh,

          “Carry on,” he told him.

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 9:00 pm**

          Brennan sat at her keyboard typing up her newest chapter of her newest book, trying the best she could to focus.  The team had finished the autopsy on the body found the Chesapeake, about three hours ago and looking at her watch, she realized she hadn’t heard from Booth in almost five hours.  That meant his search wasn’t going well.  A knock on her door pulled her thoughts away from Booth for the moment.

          “Are you Dr. Brennan?”  The man in a delivery service uniform asked.

          “I am.  Isn’t it a little late to be delivering a package?”  She wondered.

          “This was marked rush delivery so I figured it was important,” the man said as he handed over the clipboard for her to sign the paper. 

          “Well then thank you for your diligence and have a good night,” Brennan told him as she signed and handed back the paperwork. 

          “Same to you,” he said and handed over the package.  Then he left her to her thoughts again.  The package had no return address and was wrapped in plain brown wrapping paper. The handwriting on the outside was unfamiliar to her and she wondered whom it could be from.  With everything going on in this case, she decided it would be best to wait for Booth before opening it.  As if he had read her mind, the FBI agent walked through her door.  The look on his face made it obvious that he wasn’t happy.

          “It didn’t go well did it?”  She asked.

          “No.  We shut the building down and somehow he slipped through our fingers,” he told her.

          “He must have known you were coming.  You’ll get him, now that we know what he looks like, he can’t run far,” His partner said. 

          “I suppose you’re right.  He’ll be useless for the Mob now anyway.  I guess the worst part is that no one realized he used to work for Snappy Gell’s Research and Development department,” Booth shook his head and plopped down on the couch.

          “Well Cam’s autopsy revealed just what you had suspected.  The body in the Chesapeake was that of Jimmy ‘Concrete Fist’ Visone.  She found what she thinks was an injection point in his arm,” Brennan told him as she brought the package with her as she sat on the couch. 

          “The bullets from the shooting match an FBI standard issue sniper rifle.  The lab called up and said that they believe the heroin and cocaine found in Frank Coughlin came from the evidence locker.  It’s chemical makeup matches a bunch from an old drug bust.  He was using the FBI to do his dirty work.  First he gets Joseph ‘The Strangler’ Mancotti killed and then gets rid of the two witnesses that can connect him to the cases, Fitzpatrick and Visone.  He uses Cullen’s name and badge to throw us off the scent,” Booth said angrily.  Brennan knew that this was especially hard for him after working with a man he thought he could trust only to find out he betrayed him.

          “What’s in the package?”  He asked changing the subject.

          “I don’t know.  I don’t recognize the handwriting and it came rush delivery only a few minutes ago,” she said. 

          “Don’t open it.  They’re already gunning for you and I don’t want them to get what they want,” Booth said, his voice filled with concern.

          “If it was a bomb, security wouldn’t have let it through.  Besides I figured I’d wait for you to open it anyway,” the forensic anthropologist told him.

          “I just don’t want to take any chances, I love you, you know,” he said pulling her close and kissing her temple.

          “I know but if you insist on treating me as a child then you will find yourself playing mad scientist and laboratory assistant,” she gave him a serious look despite trying to lighten the mood.  This made Booth give her a wide-eyed look. 

          “How about this?  Let’s take the package over to X-Ray and then we’ll open it when we get the results,” he offered.

          “Sounds reasonable,” the two stood up and left her office.  When they reached the X-Ray department, Brennan used her swipe key to enter the room and Booth followed.  Using the machine, took only twenty minutes and they were soon strolling back into the forensic anthropologist’s office.

          “We won’t get results until tomorrow afternoon but I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait,” she told him as she set the package back down on her desk.

          “I’m sure it will be.  Now what are we going to do for the remainder of the evening?”  Booth wondered putting his hands on his hips.

          “I think I’ll answer this question,” came an all too familiar voice from the doorway behind them.  Booth spun around and came face to face with a standard issue FBI Glock 22. 

          “Now why don’t you give me your weapon?  Dr. Brennan please shut the blinds and lock your office door, we aren’t going to want to be disturbed,” the partners did as they were told.

          “Good now sit down on the sofa, we’re going to have a little chat,” the mole ordered.

          “Sam, don’t do this,” Booth said.

          “It’s too late, Seeley.  My boss needs something done and if you haven’t noticed I’m his go to guy,” the ex-FBI information man said.


	14. Chapter 14

**Brennan’s Office, Thursday at 9:40 pm**  

          “How did you get in here?”  The forensic anthropologist asked watching Sam as he kept his weapon leveled at the partners, the leather gloves on his hands preventing any fingerprints from leaving their mark.  He now held Booth’s service weapon in his hand, his own service weapon was in his coat pocket.

          “Simple.  I said I was here to aid Agent Booth in your security detail and they let me in,” the Mobster smirked and continued.

          “I see you got my package.  Why don’t you open it and share with the group?”  Brennan slowly got up from her seat and crossed the room to her desk.  She picked the small slim brown box up and was about to turn around when she realized her gun was in her purse by her desk chair.  If she could somehow get to it then they would be more evenly matched.

          “Hurry up and get to your seat or you’ll find it very hard to walk with a bullet in your back,” Sam warned.  She did as she was told and sat back down.  Once in her seat she opened the box.  Inside was a note and an Army Ranger patch.  Brennan pulled the items out and handed the patch to Booth as she read the note silently.

          “It’s a mock newspaper article about a murder suicide.  How do you plan on getting away with this?”  She asked.

          “Quite simply actually.  I shoot you and then I force Booth to shoot himself with his service weapon.  It’ll be a tragic event.  The FBI agent sworn to protect the famous Dr. Temperance Brennan snapping over his failure to catch a mole that was right under his nose.  In a fit of anger he kills you.  Upset over what he has done, he kills himself.  Later his son, Parker, will have to live with the knowledge that his father left him a legacy of disgrace both in the secular and religious departments,” Sam told them.

          “You sick son of a bitch,” Booth swore at him and made a move to get off the couch.  The ex-FBI information man quickly stood and placed the business end of the Glock to Brennan’s temple.

          “You don’t want to spoil the fun just yet, do you?”  He asked.  The FBI agent settled back into the couch.

          “That’s what I thought; anything to keep the woman your banging safe.  So much for the rules about dating your partner,” Sam said much to their surprise as she sat back down.

          “And you’re one to follow the rules huh?  What about ‘Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity’?”  Booth wondered as he recited the FBI’s motto.

          “It was replaced by making good money; now no more fooling around.  How do you want her to die?  Quick and painless or slow and painful?”  The Mobster asked as he leveled his weapon at Brennan.  She looked to Booth and then back at the gun pointed at her.  Thousands of thoughts ran through her head, things she never got to say or do. 

          “No requests, then I’ll do it my way,” Sam said as he began to squeeze the trigger when Brennan practically shouted out a question.

          “How are you going to cover the noise?  Security will be in here faster than you can blink when they hear a gunshot,” The ex-FBI information man lowered the gun and smiled.

          “It won’t matter.  You’ll be dead and Booth will be too when they get here.  I’ll be trying to give you CPR when security arrives and no one will know I did it.  Once things get crazy around here with the start of an investigation, I’ll slip away and never be caught.  Besides once the boss is broken out of prison, we’ll be taking a long vacation in Rio,” Sam told them as he raised Booth’s service weapon to the level of Brennan’s chest.

          “Say goodbye to her Booth,” he said as he squeezed the trigger.  Brennan closed her eyes and tensed every muscle in her body, waiting for the bullet to rip through her chest cavity.  When it never came she opened her eyes to find Booth lying on the floor, blood seeping from a wound in his abdomen.  Sam stood there and leveled the gun at her.  This time she dove for her desk and her purse.  The forensic anthropologist made it under her desk as Sam squeezed off another round.  It missed her and went through her desk.  As fast as she could, she grabbed her massive gun and stood up from behind the desk. 

          BANG!

          BANG!

          BANG!  Three shots went off and both people fell to the ground.  However, one of them began to crawl along the floor until they reached Booth.  He had a glazed look in his eyes but upon contact he opened his mouth.

          “I’m sorry, Temperance,” his words were barely audible.

          “Don’t leave me Booth.  I need you,” she said as she felt for a pulse.  It was weak and blood continued to seep from the FBI’s agent’s midsection.  She tried to roll him over the best she could, ignoring the wound in her shoulder.  If she didn’t stop the bleeding… No, she refused to think like that.  Pressing her hand to the wound, Brennan tried to stem the precious fluid from leaving its owner.  What seemed like an eternity passed before the security guards busted in.  Upon seeing three wounded people, they called for EMS and began helping the victims. 

          “Ma’am you have to let him go, so I can help him,” one of the security guards told her.  Brennan didn’t want to let go, afraid that that could be the last time touching her partner. 

          “We have to get the bleeding stopped.  The bullet could have perforated his lungs or his stomach or his spleen,” Her brain kicked into work mode as she tried to get the men to understand.  They decided it was best to let her think she was in charge and make it like they were helping her.

          “All right ma’am.  Let us get some gauze and press on the wound,” the first guard told her.  He held his hand with the gauze on top of hers.

          “How much longer for EMS?”  He asked his partner.

          “Five minutes,” the second guard replied.  Knowing this was too long, the first guard asked about the third victim.

          “What about the other guy?”

          “He’s dead,” his partner replied.  Brennan heard the words but they meant nothing as she focused on helping Booth.

          “Temperance,” the word reached her ears and she leaned down to her partner.

          “I’m here,” she said.

          “I love you,” he whispered.

          “I love you too,” she whispered back.  That’s when his eyes rolled back into his head and the security guard lost his pulse.

          “I’ve lost him,” he said.  Quickly his partner moved from trying to tend to Brennan’s wound to trying to bring Booth back.  He began chest compressions and forcing air into the FBI agent’s lungs.  Noise crackled over the radio and a voice said,

          “EMS is here!”  The first guard grabbed the radio with one of his blood soaked hands and screamed into it.

          “Tell them to hurry up!  We’ve got one in heart failure!”  Less than a minute later, the paramedics rushed in.  They pulled out the defibrillator and began shocking Booth.  Brennan was pulled away to give the emergency personnel the room they needed.  She was beginning to feel woozy from the blood loss in her shoulder and collapsed to the ground.  The world went black as she heard,

          “I still don’t have a pulse!” 


	15. Chapter 15

**George Washington University Medical Center, Friday at 10:00 am**  

          Slowly Brennan opened her eyes, the light from the fluorescent bulb above her head forced her to squint.  The events of the night before came back to her as her brain fought its way back to its usual logical thinking.  She shot bolt upright in her bed with the words she’d last heard in the forefront of her mind, _‘I still don’t have a pulse!’_   The paramedic had said.  Quickly she reached for her call button.

          In a minute a nurse walked in.  She had a smile on her face but Brennan didn’t notice as she barked out,

          “Where is my partner?”

          “Ma’am, who are you talking about?”  The nurse asked.

          “FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth.  Where is he?”  The forensic anthropologist’s patience was running very thin and the pain in her shoulder began to grow.

          “All right, I’ll look him up.  Don’t stress yourself, you’ll rip the stitches in your shoulder,” the medical woman said, trying to calm her down.  The last thing they needed was for her to try to move her arms like normal and rip the surgeon’s handiwork.  After the nurse left, Brennan fidgeted in her bed.  She hated hospitals and the last thing she wanted was to stay any longer than she needed to.  Footsteps in the hallway pulled her attention to the doorway hoping it was the nurse with the information she requested.  Instead she found her best friend standing there.

          “Oh sweetie!  We went to get something to eat and you woke up without us,” Angela rushed into the room and gently gave her friend a hug.  Behind her were Jack and Zach, who just let the ladies have their moment while they munched on some Pop Tarts ©. 

          “They won’t tell me about Booth.  Have you heard anything?”  Brennan asked once the hug had been released.

          “No, we haven’t.  All we know is that you and he were shot last night in your office.  There are FBI agents swarming all over the Jeffersonian investigating what happened,” Hodgins explained, the look of an already forming conspiracy theory in his head on his face.  Zach just stood there unsure of what to say.  The look of helplessness and slight confusion crossed his young face.  Brennan was about to ask another question when the nurse came back in.

          “Ma’am, we don’t have a Seeley Booth at our facility,” she said.

          “What?  That can’t be.  He and I were shot last night.  George Washington has the best gunshot victim unit in all of D.C.  He has to be here,” Brennan argued.

          “I’ve checked the records twice.  No Seeley Booth was ever brought to our facility,” the nurse had had enough of being yelled at.

          “Now before you rip your stitches out, lie down,” she ordered.  Brennan would have no part in it.

          “I want to speak with a doctor immediately,” the world-renowned author told her.  The nurse just heaved a sigh and walked out of the door.

          “Sweetie, you really need to calm down.  I’m sure that there is some explanation for Booth not being in the system,” Angela tried to comfort her friend but there was only one reason she could think of for Booth not being there and that was because he was down at the city morgue.  Not wanting to let herself think that or giving Brennan the impression she was thinking it, the forensic artist just smiled as reassuringly as she could.

          “Miss Brennan?”  The doctor asked as he strode into the room.

          “Its Dr. Brennan and I want to know how it is that my partner who received a gunshot wound isn’t here?”  She got right down to business.  

          “You were the only gunshot victim that was brought here last night,” he said.

          “That can’t be,” now Brennan was fighting back tears that were forming.  The realization that Booth was dead began to form in her mind.  It couldn’t be true; she wouldn’t allow it to be.  The doctor saw that she was very upset and gave a tight smile.

          “I’ll have one of the nurses call around to other hospitals to see where he is,” he promised.

          “That won’t be necessary.  I’ll be taking Dr. Brennan to Agent Booth,” the all too familiar voice of Cullen made everyone turn around.

          “Sir, I can’t authorize the release of my patient until I’m sure that she will not rip her stitches,” the doctor argued.  Cullen flashed his badge.

          “I’m an FBI Deputy Director and I assure you she won’t hurt herself,” he said.

          “Very well then.  Let me get the paperwork started.  You’ll have to sign the authorization,” the medical man told him.

          “That won’t be a problem,” Cullen assured him.  With that the two men left the room and Angela gave Brennan a smile.

          “Why don’t we get some nice clothes on you?  I brought some things from your apartment,” the forensic artist pointed at Hodgins who held a duffle bag.  Brennan nodded and Jack brought the bag over.

          “Can you and Zach give us a few minutes?”  Angela asked.

          “Anything you want, babe,” Jack smiled and gave her a light kiss on the lips.  He then took young Dr. Addy out into the hallway.

          Fifteen minutes later, Brennan and Angela emerged from the room.  The forensic anthropologist seemed a bit shaky on her feet and Zach came forward with a wheelchair that the nurse had given him.  Normally his boss would have objected to being babied but she readily sat down.  Her mind was racing, trying to understand everything.  Why was Booth somewhere else?  Why had Cullen come to get her out of the hospital?  She still didn’t have answers but she intended to get some.  That’s when she reached for her neck to fiddle with the dolphin necklace Booth had given her to find it missing.

          “Are we all set?”  Cullen asked as he approached the group.

          “No, I need my necklace,” Brennan said.  She never took it off and now she couldn’t find it.  Angela went to the nurses’ station and retrieved the item.  After surgery that had removed the piece so it could be catalogued and held until the patient’s release.  Handing the prized possession back to her friend, the group began heading toward the elevators. 

          Once they were out in the parking lot, Cullen helped Brennan into his SUV.  He turned to the squints and said,

          “I have to take Dr. Brennan alone.  We’re still conducting an investigation and I need to ask both of them questions,”

          “We can’t come?”  They were the first words that Zach had spoken since their arrival at the hospital.

          “I’ll give Cam a call when I’m done questioning them and then you can visit,” Cullen reassured Dr. Addy and the group.  Sensing something larger going on, Angela directed the two scientists to Hodgins’ car.

          “We’ll look forward to the call,” the entomologist called over his shoulder.  Cullen gave a slight nod and then hopped into the SUV.  

**Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Friday at 11:30 am**

          A knock on his door brought Booth back to reality.  The pain medication they’d given him had been strong and at times his mind was a little fuzzy.

          “Someone here to see you sir,” Corporal Rajas told Booth.

          “Thank you,” the ex-Army Ranger sniper nodded.  Cullen walked into the room helping Brennan along and then into a chair.

          “Bones,” Booth murmured.

          “Seeley,” she couldn’t help the tears that began to fall.

          “I have some things we need to clear up before I can leave you two alone,” Cullen interrupted the reunion.

          “Of course.  What to you need?”  Booth slipped into business mode.

          “Last night, I need to know what happened,” his boss said.

          “Well I came back to the Jeffersonian a little after nine pm as part of the arranged security detail for Bones.  She showed me a strange package that she had received and we took it to X-ray before opening it.  Upon arriving back in her office, we were confronted by Sam,” Booth explained.

          “What was in the package?”  Cullen asked.

          “A mock newspaper article stating that I killed Bones and then myself.  There was also an Army Ranger patch,” Brennan told him.

          “What did Sam do after you found him?”  The Deputy Director inquired.

          “He had me hand over my service weapon and then had us sit on the couch in her office.  Then he had Bones open the package.  He told me that I got to choose how he would kill her.”  Booth heaved a sigh despite the fact that it hurt.  That moment had replayed in his head over and over.  Brennan saw the look on his face and took his hand.

          “Things obviously didn’t go according to his plan.  What happened next?”  Cullen wondered.

          “Sam told us that after his boss was broken out of jail that they would be heading to Rio then he pointed my weapon at Bones.  When he pulled the trigger, I jumped in front of her.  After that, I don’t remember much,” Booth explained.

          “Sam is dead.  He took two bullets from Dr. Brennan’s gun in the chest.  As far as Salvalzo breaking out, we’ve moved him to a secure Federal facility until his trial,” his boss told them.  Booth turned to look at Brennan; he wished she hadn’t had to do that.  _Way to go idiot, you turned the woman you love into a killer_ , he thought to himself.

          “He fired two more shots.  One missed me and one hit me in the shoulder.  I fired two shots back at him.  I fell to the floor and crawled over to Booth,” Brennan explained.

          “All right.  I have a meeting with the State’s Attorney in two hours.  I’ll relay everything you told me and we’ll see what happens from there,” Cullen promised.   

          “Sir, I…” the question was on the tip of his tongue but Booth was afraid to ask it.  There was a chance that criminal charges could be launched against Brennan for killing Sam and there was a good chance of the partners’ relationship being thrown out into the open, which would lead to his own disciplinary problems.  His boss seemed to sense what he was thinking and leaned down to whisper into the agent’s ear.  Brennan gave a look to Booth when Cullen stood up and headed for the door.

          “One more question sir.  Why was I brought here instead of George Washington?”  His subordinate asked.

          “A security measure.  We didn’t want to have our key witnesses at the same hospital and the less the doctors and nurses knew the better,” Cullen said then with a nod he left the room.  Once he was gone, Brennan turned her attention to her partner.  Machines beeped all around him and it reminded her of when the shoe was on the other foot.

          “Temperance, I’m sorry you had to shoot Sam.  You should have never been forced into that,” Booth grimaced.

          “If you hadn’t jumped in front of me, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.  I’d be laying in the morgue and nothing says you wouldn’t be lying next to me,” the forensic anthropologist’s logical mind had kicked into gear again.

          “The doctor said a few inches higher and they wouldn’t have been able to bring me back.  The bullet went into my liver and got lodged there.  Otherwise it could have gone through my chest,” he told her.  He looked at her, the pain in his face obvious.

          “The hospital wouldn’t tell me where you were and I got all nervous.  I just can’t imagine life without you.  I was so afraid that…” the rest of the sentence caught in her throat as more tears started to stream down her face.  Booth reached up and wiped them away.

          “I love you more than anything Temperance.  I would never leave you,” he said.  Right now he wanted so much to be able to take her into his arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right but he just didn’t know.  Until Cullen returned they would have to wait and see what was going to happen.  In the meantime, all they could try to do was to reassure that the other was alive and not going anywhere.


	16. Chapter 16

**One week later at Brennan’s apartment**

          “In other news today Crime Boss Anthony Salvalzo has been indicted on charges of murder, attempted murder, arson, and money laundering.  The FBI credits three of their fallen agents for finally bringing one of the worst criminals in DC history in,” the news anchor on the television said.  Booth turned the volume down and looked over to Brennan who was sitting next to him on her sofa.

          “Well nothing left to do but see if he’s convicted,” he told her.

          “I certainly hope he is.  So many lives were ruined because of him,” Brennan agreed.  Silence settled between the partners as they stared at the screen watching the news unfold.  Both were happy that life had settled back into some sort of a normal pattern.  Booth had left the hospital this morning, earlier than the doctors expected.  Brennan had promised to keep an eye on him and refused to let him go home to his place.  Parker would be over soon and she was sure that a father-son afternoon would be just what the doctor ordered. 

          The Squint Squad had made regular visits to see Booth at Walter Reed and despite what the FBI agent said, Hodgins, Zach, and he grew to be more like best friends.  There were still some things that they wouldn’t talk about but they certainly were closer.  Angela teased them about being girly and the faces they made, made Brennan and the forensic artist laugh.

          The silence in the room had grown oppressive and now Booth turned to Bones.  The look of consternation on her face made him wonder what was going on in her head.

          “Bones, are you all right?”  He asked.

          “How can I be?”  She wondered.  Not exactly prepared for her answer Booth had a confused look on his face.

          “I killed someone,” the forensic anthropologist murmured.  At this, her partner pulled her close to him and kissed her hair.

          “Bones, you protected yourself and you saved me.  I know that you didn’t want to do it but Sam forced your hand,” he told her.

          “Still I took a life.  I’m as bad as those people we arrest Booth,” Brennan told him.

“Don’t think like that.  You will never be as bad as the people that we bust.  I refuse to let you believe that.  The State’s Attorney cleared you; it was self-defense.  Both he and Cullen agreed that if anyone asked, you have full protection as if you actually worked for the FBI,” Booth hoped that his words were reaching her.  She turned his head to look at him and gave him a slight smile.  Her mind was telling her that he was right but her conscience was still arguing with him.  In fact the forensic anthropologist surprised her partner by not belaboring the point, he’d made. 

“Again I am sorry that I couldn’t protect you from doing what you had to do,” Booth hoped that she would open up later when they lay in bed.

“Well I have a gun and to not expect to use it is kind of unintelligent.  I never realized what it really felt like until I had to use it and hopefully I won’t have to for the rest of my life,” Brennan told him.

“So if we stick to our old division of labor, then you won’t have to.  I shoot them, you cuff them,” the G-man nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” she smiled and she came up to meet Booth’s lips as he came down to meet hers.  The forensic anthropologist grabbed hold of his cotton t-shirt and pulled him closer.  Her elbow accidentally bumped into the gauze that Booth still wore to protect his stitches.  Booth tensed up and she quickly let go of him.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Not your fault.  It’s just a shame that the doctor told me to take it easy until next week,” he smirked.  Brennan chuckled at his dirty insinuation.

“Well once those stitches come out, there’s no telling what will happen,” she told him.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”   Booth asked.  Brennan’s answer was to pull him close and kiss him.

“What did Cullen whisper to you in the hospital?”  She asked.

“He told me that we’d discuss everything when I came back to work and that I should focus on getting better,” he told her.

“That’s all he said?”  Brennan looked at him incredulously.

“That and I’ll be chained to my desk for three weeks before being able to go into full active duty,” Booth nodded.  Just then a knock on the door prompted Brennan to leave her comfy seat on top of Booth and answer it.

“Tempe!”  Parker’s high-pitched voice filled the apartment.

“Parker!  Come on in,” Brennan couldn’t help but smile.

“Daddy!”  Again the little boy’s voice called out as he entered the apartment.

“Bub!  Come here buddy,” Booth opened his arms and took his son into them.  Brennan watched the reunion and smiled.  She turned to Rebecca and said,

“Thanks for bringing him over.  Booth and I really appreciate it,”

“I’m just glad that both of you are ok.  I’ll be back to pick him up on Sunday,” Rebecca gave a slight smile and then left Brennan standing in the doorway.

“Come on Tempe!  Daddy promised we’d watch Rat-tat-touee,” Parker told her excitedly.

“I’ll be right there,” Brennan smiled as she closed the doorway.  She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the weekend with the two men that meant the most to her.

**The End**


End file.
